Just because we have to sleep here doesn't mean we should have to utter the name "Fandangles."

We're in the elevator in the Atlanta Sheraton, and my friend says, "Meet you in the bar." He points to a happy-hour menu on the wall: "Fandangles."

Fandangles? You're a huge hotel conglomerate with thousands of smart people in your employ, and the best you've got is a combination of Fandango and Bojangles, both of which would be inexcusable bar names anyway?

The greatest day in a bar owner's life must be the day he names it. And yet so many hotel bars are called something we can't in good conscience invite someone to. The Indianapolis Embassy Suites: Whispers. The Tremont Park in Baltimore: Celebrities. The Midwest Hotel in Columbus: Bowties.

If this weren't a hotel, there'd be no problem. I walk past bars with horrible names like Kaleidoscopes and Marionettes and J. R. McGillicutty's all the time. But because I'm sleeping here, a bargain has been struck. I won't whine about the $6.50 Heinekens in exchange for the convenience of drinking at a respectable place in the same building as my bed.